


Turnabout is Fair Play

by EllenofX



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Happy, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn, Post pacifist, Power Play, Romance, Smut, Soul Sex, puns, safe words
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 09:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7929757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenofX/pseuds/EllenofX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grillby was a mild lover, and Sans respected that about him, particularly after his series of rough, demanding partners, but he was also a little bland beneath the bedsheets. He liked things gentle and easy, a simple man of simple tastes while Sans wanted excitement after just a couple weeks falling into a pattern. His frustration had showed in the relationship, building until one rather spectacular outburst, and now both of them were attempting to compromise. As it turned out, there had been a few things Grillby wanted that they’d never done, even if they’d still fallen on the mundane side of intimacy in Sans’ opinion.</p><p><b>XXX content right off the bat</b> and in <i>basically</i> every chapter if this is actually continued... This is totally my first slash fic ever, and depending on reader reaction, this will either be a one-shot or be continued with a few more chapters. I hope you enjoy, and if you can leave any feedback, please do!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turnabout is Fair Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby and Sans experiment with power play. Grillby is sub, but Sans wants to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for looking at this. Originally meant as a “you freaking awesome” gift fic for a blog called “Variety of Spices”, but unfortunately it was deleted by its creator before I could post this. Much sadness is in order…

The house was dark and quiet when Sans slipped silently down the staircase, careful not to let the stairs creak despite the absence of his brother’s presence. Papyrus was at a sleepover with Frisk, Undyne, and Alphys, likely forced to watch some anime for the first time. Sans was sure his brother was enjoying himself, and that was half the reason he’d decided to enjoy himself, too. Not because of his brother, but because of the lack of him, so to speak.

Reaching the kitchen, Sans went to the liquor cabinet and unlocked it, before carefully – ever so carefully – selecting something appropriate. Harder than it sounded, honestly. It had to be high proof, classic, and just a little… Ah, perfect. 

Grabbing the bottle, Sans grinned down at it as he selected two glasses from the cupboard. He opened the bottle slowly, again working hard to maintain his silence before pouring a more then generous portion into one glass. It would be an obscene amount, really, if not for the circumstances. The other is empty as he puts the bottle away, and he contemplated it for a second with dilated eye lights, considering how, exactly, he wanted the evening to play out.

Coming to a conclusion, Sans picked up the empty glass and brought it with him to the freezer, opening the door and placing two ice cubes in it. His soul fluttered in anticipation as someone shifted upstairs, and Sans realized that his guest must be straining to listen to his every movement. Moving on to the sink, Sans smirked as he turned the water on, waiting several long seconds for the water to run cold before filling the cup. Turning off the tap, the skeleton knew his guest would definitely have heard that, and wondered what they were thinking.

Picking up the other glass, Sans nearly turned to head back up the stairs when it struck him that his guest be expecting that. The skeleton froze, debating, then decided it’d be far more entertaining to surprise them. He took a practiced step forward, careful to stay perfectly still as the void wrapped around him to avoid nausea or dizziness. An instant later the shortcut was complete and Sans stood in his own bedroom, beside his nightstand, and grinned, staring at his guest. It was a very pleasing sight, to say the least.

Grillby sat on his knees, arms bound behind him and blindfolded in the center of the mattress. The bed had been stripped bare, blankets folded neatly (that had been Grillby’s doing) nearby, and only the smooth, clean bottom sheet curved gently beneath the weight of the flame’s exposed body. His legs were also tied, tight and bent, further preventing his movement. Clearly nervous, the elemental’s body was tense and defined, and Sans allowed himself a long moment to fully appreciate it. He particularly admired the way the flame flushed, little flickers of blue and pink tinting his otherwise stoic expression. Grillby’s head listed slightly towards the skeleton, sensing Sans’ location only by the rapidly dispersing magic he used to teleport. He was waiting, quite patiently, for the other man to make a move.

The moment passed, then another as Sans simply watched the elemental, letting him lose Sans’ location over time. He knew the skeleton was in the room, surely, but he also knew by now how cat-like Sans could be when he wanted to. Then, just as the elemental’s head started to swivel, trying to find him, Sans took a long, slow sip of water. He watched how Grillby reacted, going completely still, and took another drink. He set the water down, delighting in the way the ice clinked against the side of the glass, drawing Grillby’s full attention before he spoke.

“Important to stay hydrated in moments like this,” He said, almost too casually, “Don’t you think, Grillz?”

The flame did not reply, and Sans hadn’t expected him too, idly dipping two fingers in the glass as he considered his options. The ice chimed again, and when Grillby shivered, both men knew it wasn’t with cold. Sans stepped forward, reaching with his wet hand not for, but over the elemental, pointing a finger down to allow a single fat drop to fall onto Grillby’s opposite shoulder. He gasped, not just at the sensation but the unexpected location of it, and Sans smiled wider. It was rare for Grillby to make any such undignified sound, even when they were in bed together.

Dipping his fingers in the water again, he sat on the edge of the bed and trailed patterns against the elemental’s skin. Grillby twitched and shuddered in response, leaning away slightly from the touch, though not enough to deter the skeleton. It was going almost precisely as Sans had expected, and he grew somewhat bolder with his application of the water, though he still ensured the most he got in response were sharp little inhales and nothing that indicated honest pain. It took him longer than either monster had expected to grow tired of this game, though eventually he stopped, drying his hand against his own shirt before touching the elemental again.

At first, Grillby went rigid at the entire hand being pressed against the small of his back, but relaxed into the touch as he realized it was dry. His breath was rapid now, bordering on panicky, and honestly that was most of Sans’ reason for pausing. He rubbed the bound man’s shoulders gently, over darkened marks he himself had made, before lengthening his strokes over the flame’s entire back and arms. He continued this for a while, and Grillby relaxed further, but Sans was still unhappy with his apparent discomfort.

“You okay?” He asked.

Grillby laughed, breathy and quiet before responding, “Just fine.”

Sans was unconvinced, but just went back to massaging the flame. He focused on the shoulders and neck now, which were knotted, and realized it was due to the other man pulling against his restrains. He looked to the water on the table, then the liquor in his hand and then Grillby, uncertain. This was all his idea, and he wanted to continue, but…

“You sure?”

“I’m sure, Sans.” Grillby said, the tone of his voice now even.

“Okay.” The skeleton said, delight once again consuming his features. What he planned next he knew the flame would enjoy. “Little splash coming up, alright?”

“What?” Grillby said, any ease he’d gained in the past few minutes evaporating, “No.”

“I promise you’ll like-”

“Sans, no.”

“Listen, okay?” Sans said, noting that despite the elemental’s objections, no safe word had been spoken. That was the way this worked, sometimes, the words of protest just part of the fun until someone said ‘banana’ and everything stopped. He didn’t think that was really Grillby’s style, though.

“Listen to you pour water on me?” Grillby’s tone was skeptical, but notably lacked venom. It sounded very much like a weak attempt at humor gone wrong, “I think I’d like to pass.”

“It’s not like that, I promise.” Sans vowed, inwardly noting that the mild opposition still hadn’t held a safe word, “When have you ever known me to _make_ a promise, much less break one?”

Grillby huffed in response. That wasn’t precisely the most convincing argument, but he seemed to be considering the idea.

“Where?”

“Where are you most comfortable with?” Sans replied, eager for the opportunity to proceed. There was a long pause at the elemental clearly considered his daily activities.

“Calf?” He said, uncertain. He could sit behind the bar, if he had to, right? It was a better place than his arms, certainly, and there was no way he was letting more than a touch of the liquid across his torso.

“That would ruin fun.” Sans said, careful with his wording, “How about your thigh?”

Grillby shallowed. Then, “Just… just a little splash, right?”

“Yes. You’re alright with this, then?”

There was a long pause, and Grillby may or may not have given a nod. If he did, it was so slight that Sans would never consider it consent, regardless. The skeleton clicked his teeth together eventually, mildly frustrated. He understood his counterpart’s hesitation and wondered if he’d overdone it, but at the same time if he explained his intent… That really would ruin all the fun. Normally, he’d wouldn’t press like this, but Grillby _did_ seem to be vaguely open to the idea with what he thought was water, and Sans had seen the flame’s reaction to alcohol before.

So, with a hint of guilt, he tried his ‘golden ticket’ phrase, attempting to keep his tone jovial and mocking in case he was turned down, “What’s a matter, Grillz? Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” The bartender said without so much as a second thought, “but…”

He trailed off, grinding his teeth a little before he murmured one last word, “Mustard.”

Sans blinked. He hadn’t _actually_ expected to hear one of their safe words from the elemental, and it immediately caught his attention. This wasn’t a bad thing – it was meant to – but the word itself sounded strange coming from Grillby, particularly in this context. In fact, he struggled to place when they’d last discussed their safe words, and discovered that he couldn’t think of any save for when they’d been set, he and Grillby were both elated and breathless after a particularly satisfying, if vanilla, session. 

Grillby was a mild lover, and Sans respected that about him, particularly after his series of rough, demanding partners, but he was also a little bland beneath the bedsheets. He liked things gentle and easy, a simple man of simple tastes while Sans wanted excitement after just a couple weeks falling into a pattern. His frustration had showed in the relationship, building until one rather spectacular outburst, and now both of them were attempting to compromise. As it turned out, there had been a few things Grillby wanted that they’d never done, even if they’d still fallen on the mundane side of intimacy in Sans’ opinion. 

They were both trying to satisfy each other’s needs, but were taking it slow, neither of them in any particular rush. They’d been experimenting with bondage and power play for a couple months now, and the need to use any of their codes simply hadn’t arisen.

“Okay, mustard.” Sans repeated, “Got it.”

Even their safe words were aimed more at Sans’ taste then Grillby’s, since the skeleton had first mentioned the idea. “Mustard” wasn’t to call a full stop on activities - that was “Relish” (Sans hated the stuff) – it was merely a note to proceed with caution. “Ketchup” was supposed to signal the all-clear, but even Sans couldn’t imagine saying that in a moment of ecstasy. It charmed him a little, though, that green was “stop” and red was “go”, when it was normally the other way around, and he was certain that Grillby was perfectly aware of this.

Grillby’s jaw settled, though his face, like the rest of him, remained stiff and unyielding. He was waiting again, somewhat impatient. A part of him wanted this to be over at this point, be it for better or for worse, but a much larger portion of him was dedicated to trying anything once, if only for Sans… And then, beneath all that, a small sliver of his soul quivered in anticipation. If not for that last piece, this would be over. But despite his apprehension and downright fear of pain, Grillby begrudgingly had to admit he was the slightest bit curious, perhaps even excited, for what would happen next.

“You sure-”

“Mustard.” Grillby said, cutting the skeleton off curtly. He _wasn’t_ sure, but he didn’t really want to stop, either.

Sans leaned forward, allowing his shoulder to lean against the elemental as he ran his free hand from Grillby’s knee, up to his crotch. He lingered there, until he got the flame to relax enough for his breathing to hitch, then his hips to shift slightly at each stroke and touch. The skeleton let himself smile again, continuing at a leisurely pace to stimulate the elemental until Grillby’s back pressed up against him, trying to arch. Sans stopped abruptly, leaving his hand where it was as he dragged the smooth bottom of the glass down in the same path his hand had taken, feeling Grillby’s back straighten as his conscious returned.

The tension was palpable, and for an instant Sans felt an odd mixture of satisfaction and jealousy for the elemental. He craved this moment for himself, closing his eyes and nuzzling the flame’s shoulder… It’d been a long time since he’d really felt any apprehension or mystery during sex, and certainly not at Grillby’s hands since the very beginnings of their relationship. When they’d started like this, Sans hadn’t been certain he’d be able to pull off this particular role very well, but as it turned out, he was very, very good at it. He simply imagined the roles reversed before he acted, getting himself off by imagining Grillby’s responses as his own.

Right now, the man beside him seemed overtaken by intensity, utterly consumed by the concept that the liquid in the glass, held against his hip, was water. The pretense would be more compete if there were condensation sizzling against the flame and ice clinking in the glass, but Grillby didn’t seem to notice these discrepancies in the least. It was erotic as hell, but also worrisome, as Sans knew that Grillby didn’t really enjoy the uncertainly and expectation as much as he did. Both men went still for a second, conflicted between desire and worry, until Sans pressed forward.

“Okay… Little splash, coming soon to a theater near you.” Sans said, defusing his own nerves through bad humor.

Grillby’s voice shook a little when he spoke, “Sans, just get on-”

The exclamation was sharp and brief, cut off as the elemental bit his lower lip. It was very like Grillby, not to want to make noise even as he pitched forward over his legs in shock and pleasure, but Sans was a little disappointed he had that much control over his vocalizations. He still beamed though, watching Grillby strain _into_ the sensations instead of away from them. 

The skeleton’s deceit had been two fold when the whiskey hit. Not only was the liquid hardly water, but it had not exactly been a “little” splash, and a fair amount went running off of Grillby’s skin to the bed below where it pooled, burning over the sheets as the elemental pressed himself almost desperately towards it. Tied as he was, the elemental couldn’t touch himself, and Sans let the alcohol burn off slowly without adding to the sensation, Grillby’s silence breaking with minuet sounds he kept trying to suppress. After a few moments, the whiskey was nearly gone, leaving Grillby shaken and needy. He didn’t say anything, probably didn’t trust himself to.

Sans watched the elemental with fascination as he put the glass on the nightstand. Was this what he was like? Bare? Vulnerable? Did he really want to be that again? The answers were yes, the questions lost in the moment as he returned and pressed himself against the bartender’s back and over his arms. Instinctively, Grillby leaned into him, dignity shed to only the skeleton without hesitation as he shifted and displayed his undeniably hard cock.

“I told you you’d like it.” Sans commented simply, just because he knew it would frustrate Grillby not to be able to retort. What would he even say? Something moderate and humored yet pointed, no doubt. Either that, or just a very frustrated curse, somehow encompassing the entire sentiment of ‘Well, no shit, Sherlock, aren’t you supposed to be good at science? Fire plus flammables equals a happy flame. If you’d just told me this is what we were up to I wouldn’t have objected. Now, _please_ , for the love of god, _let me come_ ’ into one word.

On his knees behind the flame, Sans could rest his head comfortably on his partner’s shoulder while wrapping his arms around to the flame’s front. He groped over Grillby’s torso for a while, almost mocking as one hand baited by gradually moving lower and lower. Eventually, he grabbed the other man’s member and started pumping languidly, slow enough he knew it couldn’t go anywhere. Grillby was shaking, hips tensing and releasing as they tried to meet him when he finally said, “You know, if I make you come now, we’re still not done.”

Grillby nodded, and Sans pressed his mouth against the elemental’s shoulder, letting him feel the smile curve his features. Nibbling along the elemental’s neck, he reached up and straightened the black silken blindfold and withdrew. _That_ earned him the flame’s voice, if only as a whimper of protest and yearning as the skeleton stretched to get more whiskey. He took a sip, letting it rest on a conjured palate as he shifted back to Grillby. 

Soon he was back in exactly the same position, carefully preventing any reaction as the elementals hands, secured in one location, blindly gripped at and gathered up his shirt. Clumsy in his circumstances, Grillby could barely manage to get one finger tracing along Sans’ lowest rib. Sans was tempted to leave him like this for a while just see what the restrained man could do to him. Unfortunately, it was getting hard not to swallow with the alcohol burning his mouth and he didn’t have the patience not to move on. He yanked his shirt down, preventing further distraction, and leaned heavily into Grillby, compelling the other man to lean forward as he again pressed one hand against his chest, the other meandering down the elemental’s body on two finger-feet. So much of this was done just to irritate Grillby, and this was no exception.

Moving his hand, Sans called the elemental’s soul forward and Grillby went completely motionless. It was like someone removed the power supply from an animatronic, the motion simply cutting out for a split second before he leaned back into Sans with a moan. It wasn’t a forceful movement – almost relaxed in fact - but the skeleton still had to compensate quickly to stand against his much greater mass. Grillby was wholly comfortably with this, Sans realized. While he hadn’t expected any real protest from the action, he certainly didn’t expect the impression of relief in the elemental’s actions, either. Grillby literally trusted the skeleton with his soul. 

It was strange; for once, something Sans considered a little kinky was something obviously held commonplace by the flame. They’d used their souls and magic during intimacy before, of course, but never during bondage, and Sans had assumed it would be a much bigger deal then it was. 

Perhaps it was due to his delicate nature, but the skeleton had always been a little… cautious with who he let see his soul, let alone touch it. Grillby was the second of his significant others, the first since Sans’ first, to see it regularly, in fact. Ironically this was primarily due to that same gentle reliability that had led to the malcontent they were trying to solve. If Sans was completely honest with himself, and he were in Grillby’s position right now, this very well might be his mustard.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, the skeleton set to work, starting on Grillby’s physical body before motioning to gently cup Grillby’s glowing core in his hand. It seemed incredibly small to him, yet even the slightest touch, intentional or not, provoked a response from the elemental’s whole being. Actually running the tip of his thumb along its surface made Grillby buck, rasping out Sans’ name as he drew closer to climax. Sans liked that, and quickly fell into a rhythm between his two tasks, now not just envying Grillby but actually delighting in watching the bartender fall to pieces before him. It was rare for him to get his name called once, and now repeatedly… He’d have to remember this particular combination of tricks to try again later.

It wasn’t long before Sans added magic to the mix, channeling an aimless thread into the hand that held and fondled Grillby’s soul. Suddenly, the elemental was calling out with unprecedented volume. Sans was so startled he nearly lost his concentration, but the incoherent begging kept him focused, and just as he pressed into Grillby’s core, he let the whiskey run from his mouth and down the elemental’s neck. It caught blaze instantly, flaring blue as not just the whiskey, but the liquid magic was absorbed by the flame, connecting the physical and spiritual sensations. Grillby spasmed and came, jerking madly against his ties and Sans, swearing loudly as he lost his final thread of control. Then it was over, and the bartender’s muscles going slack as euphoria washed over him.

Grillby’s head lulled backwards, allowing his hot breath to wash over one side Sans’ skull. Sans grunted, adjusting to even more of the bartender’s weight pressing against him. He was still twitching weakly, but Sans had to move and allow the soul to return to its owner in order to support the elemental, wrapping his arms around the bound limbs and chest awkwardly to keep the bartender from toppling haplessly off the bed. Grillby didn’t seem to notice or care, humming contentedly at the contact. He stretched to kiss Sans’ jawline, nothing more than a peck, then let his head roll back again in a sedate, satisfied manner. 

He was big on that – the kissing thing – and Sans couldn’t really understand it as a skeleton and thus lacked lips. Not that it was an issue. He didn’t mind being kissed on occasion, it was just another tender gesture from the elemental, who never seemed overtly bothered by the lack of reciprocation.

Sans rolled the elemental on his side, watching him a moment before retrieving the water. Already Grillby’s panting had slowed to deep breaths, drowsily relaxing despite his awkward position. Without a pillow or arm to rest on, the bartender’s neck curved sharply to rest his head against the mattress itself, and his legs were still tied but limp, and Sans realized that Grillby was falling asleep. It was tremendously atypical for him, but that didn’t matter, Sans still wasn’t going to allow it. The first touch of water was met with a grumpy and somnolent murmur, but Sans ignored it, continuing along Grillby’s chest and stomach, moving up to his side as the elemental recovered, shuddering every now and then but taking no further action.

“And you always say that I’m a lazy fucker,” Sans said, when he thought Grillby was awake enough to appreciate the double meaning. An exasperated groan in response. “I warned you we wouldn’t be finished.”

“Uh-huh,” Grillby said, nodding. Then, “Five more minutes?”

Sans considered it, tracing a particularly long line across the elemental’s stomach before asking, “Can I do your arms?”

“Yeah, sure…”

“Then I’ll allow it.” He said cheerfully, starting at the shoulder and moving down. 

The skeleton was tired of random patterns now, and decided to test his hand at art. Yup, still terrible. It made him smile though, knowing there was even the smallest chance that someone at the bar might notice the watermarks beneath Grillby’s thin white sleeves. So, he drew. A cat, a smiley face, even a rather ironically intended fish… and then it was time to go again, Grillby’s vigor for activities somehow miraculously regenerated.

“Good?” Sans said, and Grillby nodded eagerly, more confident in the potential pleasure of the night. “Alrighty. Arms, then you’re going on your back.”

Grillby complied, not even attempting to touch Sans as his arms were released briefly before getting rebound to the headboard. He rolled on his back clumsily, knee’s jutting upwards due to his folded legs until Sans untied them. He considered securing them to the corners of the bed, but was too lazy and aroused for that, more interested in finally gratifying himself with the elemental. 

He gave a final flick of water across Grillby’s legs, bored, for now, with drawing and got up to substitute glasses. Walking a half circle around the bed, he settled himself between Grillby’s legs then crept up the bed, running fingertips along the inner side and freezing every time the elemental twitched. The message was very clear – you move, I don’t – and soon Grillby was trying desperately to remain motionless, save for the occasional erratic breath. Sans made a game of coaxing reactions of the elemental for a time, Grillby’s unflappability lost post first-orgasm.

The skeleton touched himself with one hand as he teased the bartender with the other, whiskey awkwardly balanced on the bed beside him as he stroked his own pelvis. He used long, slow touches down the pubis and ischium at first, before allowing his phalanges to curve around and within his obturator foramen in that mildly intoxicating manner that made his lose track of exactly what he was supposed to be doing with Grillby other than _touch_ him. What started as careful, calculated contact grew sloppy and haphazard as Sans grew more focused on himself, finally brushing against the pubic symphysis.

When he felt the first urge to cry out at his own touch, Sans pulled himself forward, straddling Grillby to grind against him. Originally, he’d planned on doing something more than simply fuck the elemental, but that was a lost cause at this point and he let himself fall mindlessly into the rhythm and sensation. Unlike his partner, Sans suffered no modesty concerning his voice, moaning and grunting loudly as he rutted and let the heat built, both within and below him.

Grillby, for his part, was still doing his best to stay immobile with varying amounts of success. Honestly, he was a little shocked and uncertain what to do until Sans poured the whiskey on them both, and he too succumbed to pure need, writhing and rising to meet the skeleton’s motions. Hard hips couldn’t do much for him, though, not when the Sans’ hands were too preoccupied with his own pleasure to help things along, so it was no surprise when the skeleton came first with a sharp exclamation before slumping against the elemental with a satisfied grunt.

As his pleasant stupor passed, Sans felt an immediate twang of guilt for the monster still thrusting up beneath him. He hurried to undo the arm restraints, and as soon as Grillby was free the elemental tore the blindfold off with one hand while groping himself with the other. He bowled the warm, lethargic skeleton over without protest, planting kisses along his collar bone and ribcage as he quickly found his release at his own practiced hand, leaving Sans with the embarrassment and shame over his own failure of endurance. It was short lived, however, as they had been in similar situations before and ecstasy still hung heavy between the two.

With a great sigh, Grillby tilted back, laying and breathing and _existing_ for a moment without want of anything else. Then, with very little trouble considering his position, he scooped up and pulled Sans towards him, engulfing the skeleton in his warm embrace. He reached over for their pillows, placing them in appropriate spots before grabbing the corner of the blankets and pulling it over them, blissfully closing his eyes.

“So,” the elemental said with a vague, spent voice, “ _That’s_ what you want?”

Sans nodded weakly, trying not to think so he could enjoy his afterglow.

“Huh.” Grillby continued, his voice somehow even slower, “I guess it has a certain… appeal.”

Sans just lied still, surrendering to elemental’s hold and the faint swirl of magic that still passed between them. He was tired and spacey, and the motions of Grillby’s breathing were soothing, especially after he shifted and spooned the skeleton, his own body relaxing against Sans’ back as they drifted. It was times like this when Sans really enjoyed Grillby, with his kisses and his gentle mannerisms, when he was already spent and blissful and just wanted to lay like this with someone forever. He could fall asleep like this. In fact, he planned to. Just as Sans was beginning to fade, though, Grillby shifted behind him, and the elemental’s voice cut through the ease of the night.

“And just _what_ have you done to me?”

“Huh?” Sans said, eyes opening in concern. That most certainly was not the tone of post-orgasmic bliss. It wasn’t angry, though, more incredulous, disbelieving, but it still made the skeleton worry what he’d done. “What’s wrong?”

“Hand me my glasses.” Grillby replied, ignoring the question. Sans leaned forward to retrieve the spectacles from the nightstand immediately, eyeballing the remaining whiskey before returning to the elemental’s side. He looked over his shoulder at his lover to find Grillby scrutinizing himself with some intensity, squinting at his own body. It clicks, and Sans can’t quite suppress a laugh.

“Heh.”

The sound earned him an attempted glare from the flame, but the expression doesn’t quite have the desired effect when the corners of his mouth still curve upwards in a slight but satisfied grin. He held out his hand, and for a brief second Sans considered keeping the glasses for a while. It’s a fun game, they’ve played it before, but then he decided he was too tired anyway and simply puts the glasses on himself, holding them up by one stem as he reclined into the elemental. Cocking one brow ridge at Grillby, the action earns him an eye roll and a quick peck on the forehead as the bartender recovered his eyeglasses. There’s a pause, and Sans snuggled closer, closing his eyes again as he waited for the inevitable reaction.

“Really, Sans?” Grillby said, finding the dick scrawled childishly on his forearm, “Really?”

Sans just smirked broader, waiting for the elemental to return to the pillows. He didn’t though, and when Sans glanced up he found Grillby seemingly lost in thought.

“You’re not actually upset, are you?”

Grillby started, looking down at him, and Sans’ concerns are immediately melted by the deep affection in the flame’s eyes.

“Very.”

“What?”

“I’m very upset, Sans.” The elemental said, his voice husky in a contrived way, “I think you deserve to be punished.”

“No! Oh my god, _no_. Shut up!” Sans responded, squirming, “Please don’t. You’re the worst.”

Grillby laughed, letting himself fall into bed and wrapping around the skeleton.

“True.” He admitted, “But you’d like it, wouldn’t you? I mean, that was the entire point of this… For you to show me what you wanted? I-I’m, um… I’m… not _actually_ talking about pun-”

“Yes,” Sans interrupted, whispering the affirmative almost reverently, “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“Okay, then.” Grillby said, taking a deep, steadying breath, “Next week, maybe? My place?”

“Next week is your week,” Sans replied, looking to the elemental’s face, “We should do what you like.”

“Well,” The bartender said, voice lilting in the way it did when he was trying to convince himself as much as Sans, “I like making you happy. And I really don’t mind skipping a week, here and there… After all, I’ve still got this.”

Grillby shook Sans by the shoulders slightly, kissing the back of his skull to illustrate his point. This, the afterwards, when everything was warm and hazy and Sans loved the sentimental bullshit just as much as he did. Sans swallowed, and turned to burrow his face gratefully against his partner. Grillby made a contented noise, rubbed his warm palm across Sans’ scapula through the skeleton’s cotton T-shirt. He realized he didn’t remember what it said today, or even if it was a pun or visual humor, then decided he didn’t care right now. Nuzzling the crown of Sans’ skull, he got comfortable, silently vowing to check his partner’s shirt in the morning before allowing sleep to take him.

For a time, the skeleton was too giddy to sleep, and enjoyed the sensation of Grillby relaxing beside him. Heat seeped from the elemental, and for a time that was glorious until it became too much, and Sans had to kick the blanket off of him. He left the sheet, though, because for some reason Grillby liked at least the notion of a cover while he slept, and the sheet at least was bearable. Natural laziness finally overtaking his excitement, Sans too became tranquil and silent, though the thought still plagued him with the same enthusiastic inflection…

_Next week!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well… What did you think? Do you want to see what happens next week?
> 
> Like I said, this is my first ever attempt at writing something NSFW, and I’m trying to decide if I really want to continue this or not. If I did continue it, there would be four more chapters of this particular fic, and things might get considerably less… Happy/Fluffy. Depending on how it went over as a whole I may decide to do other slash fics. I mean, I do have a lot of ideas, I just don’t feel particularly confident writing this sort of thing…
> 
> *Blushes like the sinning little virgin she is…*
> 
> **Regardless, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!**
> 
> **P.S. I suck at tagging. Please help.**

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how awkward this is when most of what I write have these two as adoptive father and son.


End file.
